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35-year old Londoner, jr. middleweight Gilbert Eastman is fighting for his life after being stopped Friday night in the closing seconds of the 8th and final round by countryman Sam Webb
Eastman, born in Guyana, collapsed in his dressing room and was taken to the Royal London Hospital, where a blood clot was to be removed from his brain.
His trainer, Winston Fuller, told the BBC that “Gilbert walked under his own steam to the dressing room. Halfway through changing his clothes he was talking to us and then just collapsed.”
Ring Editor Nigel Collins wrote this piece (shortened) in the Oct. issue:
“Suspension of disbelief is a common occurrence in all walks of life, especially boxing, a realm populated by dreamers and schemers of all stripes. It’s not the punches that kill and maim. They’re just symptoms of the beautiful sickness we call boxing, the end result of the delusion all fighters harbor – that it won’t happen to them.
Boxing would not exist without this maddening but crucial contradiction. It’s the same trick of the mind everybody uses to get through the day. How many of us would get into a car or board an airplane if we stopped to think about the undeniable fact that a lot of folks never reach their destinations?
The number of people who watch boxing in hope of witnessing a tragedy is, I believe, infinitesimally small. Most of us push that unsettling thought to the farthest reaches of our minds. Like the boxers, we need to sublimate the naked truth in order to participate, even in the passive role of observer.
The majority of the time, everything works out okay, which only reinforces the notion that the fantasy is indeed fact. But it’s not. Reality is right around the corner, waiting to ambush us …
None of this is to suggest boxing should be banished. It is, instead, an attempt to look behind the magician’s cape and see boxing for what it really is – an elaborate game of chicken, where men race to the edge of disaster in the blind hope the other guy goes off the cliff first.
As spectators, our responsibility is to shoulder a share of the blame when things go horribly wrong. It’s the least we can do considering all the pleasure we derive when illusion dodges reality by employing a unique brand of enchantment known as the Sweet Science.”
When things go horribly wrong, we (the spectators) ought to share the blame. But, we settle by having faith in another category of really true warriors, the physicians. Most often, they win their battles. At times, they don’t. Then, we unfold our blinders and try to forget. Because, next weekend there’s another event. Who wants to miss it? The true nature of mankind isn’t always what we want it to be, or, what we want to be ourselves.
Eastman, born in Guyana, collapsed in his dressing room and was taken to the Royal London Hospital, where a blood clot was to be removed from his brain.
His trainer, Winston Fuller, told the BBC that “Gilbert walked under his own steam to the dressing room. Halfway through changing his clothes he was talking to us and then just collapsed.”
Ring Editor Nigel Collins wrote this piece (shortened) in the Oct. issue:
“Suspension of disbelief is a common occurrence in all walks of life, especially boxing, a realm populated by dreamers and schemers of all stripes. It’s not the punches that kill and maim. They’re just symptoms of the beautiful sickness we call boxing, the end result of the delusion all fighters harbor – that it won’t happen to them.
Boxing would not exist without this maddening but crucial contradiction. It’s the same trick of the mind everybody uses to get through the day. How many of us would get into a car or board an airplane if we stopped to think about the undeniable fact that a lot of folks never reach their destinations?
The number of people who watch boxing in hope of witnessing a tragedy is, I believe, infinitesimally small. Most of us push that unsettling thought to the farthest reaches of our minds. Like the boxers, we need to sublimate the naked truth in order to participate, even in the passive role of observer.
The majority of the time, everything works out okay, which only reinforces the notion that the fantasy is indeed fact. But it’s not. Reality is right around the corner, waiting to ambush us …
None of this is to suggest boxing should be banished. It is, instead, an attempt to look behind the magician’s cape and see boxing for what it really is – an elaborate game of chicken, where men race to the edge of disaster in the blind hope the other guy goes off the cliff first.
As spectators, our responsibility is to shoulder a share of the blame when things go horribly wrong. It’s the least we can do considering all the pleasure we derive when illusion dodges reality by employing a unique brand of enchantment known as the Sweet Science.”
When things go horribly wrong, we (the spectators) ought to share the blame. But, we settle by having faith in another category of really true warriors, the physicians. Most often, they win their battles. At times, they don’t. Then, we unfold our blinders and try to forget. Because, next weekend there’s another event. Who wants to miss it? The true nature of mankind isn’t always what we want it to be, or, what we want to be ourselves.